


I Know You (Don't I?)

by dekukato



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Daichi's Whipped, Idk what else to put for tags, M/M, Mild Angst, Not Beta Read, all errors are mine uh, canon compliant if u squint and hold up a magnifying glass, happy ending i swear, i think i'm funny so mild humor, oh right, takeda-like levels of metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27989106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dekukato/pseuds/dekukato
Summary: Surely, there was that line that differentiated between “know” and “don’t know”. That line, that uncrossable yet beckoning line, was the same one drawn between platonic and romantic in a flimsy stroke. Such lines were made out of chalk, easily washed by the rain, but just as easily redrawn.It took a braver man than Sawamura Daichi to take that step over the line. His toes just barely brushed the edge, and without a push, without a hand to pull him over, he was stuck.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	I Know You (Don't I?)

Suga liked his coffee sweet - whipped cream and caramel on top for special occasions (which included, but was not limited to: the day after a good volleyball game, sunday mornings, and before a big test that he would undoubtedly pass with flying colors). He stayed up later than he knew he should, sometimes until 2:00am when an important deadline was near, or when he found an especially good book. Suga’s favorite colors were pale blue, “like the sky the first day I touched a volleyball,” and dark green, “it feels like the forest when it’s a little bit wet from rain. It’s _nice_ , Daichi.” He liked spicy foods, liked when food was hot enough to make his eyes water and his nose run. 

All these things were facts Daichi just sort of… knew. He had them stored in his memory like they were files in a folder marked “IMPORTANT”. At first, it was done with conscious effort. Daichi wanted a friend in his fellow teammate, and so he took to collecting information when Suga gave it. 

( _“Hey, you like Mario Kart, right? If you want, I have a Wii at my house. We could play sometime when we don’t have practice."_

 _Suga laughed, and his eyes gave their first true glimpse of mischief, “I’m gonna kick your ass.”_ )

That was years ago, even if it did feel like just the other day. 

Now they’re third years, and although Daichi knew more about Suga than he knew about himself, he felt a burst of pride every time he heard Suga say-

“You know me so well, Daichi.”

Suga rested his chin in his hand, elbow propped up on his thigh. They sat next to each other on a bench while the rest of the team chatted amongst themselves and put equipment away for the night. Daichi held out a whiteboard between himself and Suga, gameplay plans for the upcoming game written in Daichi’s strong, block-like strokes. 

Daichi turned his head to meet Suga’s eyes, the bout of joy from his words settling and solidifying in his chest. “I’m supposed to know my co-captain well.”

A smile tugged at his lips at the huff of air Suga let out in lieu of a laugh. _Easy_. It was so easy to be next to him. 

“So duty-bound, _captain_ ,” Suga teased, bumping his shoulder with Daichi’s. The movement jostled the small whiteboard between them, but Daichi didn’t mind.

What he did mind, however, were the loud voices that rose from their star first years. Daichi turned his head and brought his voice to a level the two would very easily hear, “Kageyama. Hinata. Finish putting the net away. I better hear from you _both_ tomorrow that your homework was turned in on time.” 

The two boys’ mouths closed, the look in their eyes saying they learned from previous experiences _not_ to mess with Daichi. 

“Y-yessir!” Hinata nodded a few times too many, then turned to glare at Kageyama as though it was his fault they got scolded. Which, naturally, started up another argument. 

A hand on Daichi’s forearm stopped him from standing up and making the two run laps again. “Let them be, Daichi.”

Daichi turned his head towards Suga and felt the tense blanket around him fall. This time it was Daichi’s turn to say, in his best Suga impression (which wasn’t all that great), “you know me so well.

Suga rolled his eyes and lifted his hand off Daichi’s arm to punch his shoulder. “That was a _terrible_ impression of me. Leave the impressions to Hinata, please.” 

Daichi pretended to rub the spot he hit as though it hurt, earning a disappointed shake of the head from Suga. “I’m entitled to as many terrible impressions as I want,” he stated, confident in his ability to butcher impressions poorly enough to make Suga laugh. He’d suffer mountains of embarrassment if it meant he got to hear Suga’s laugh. 

“Don’t you dare do any more impressions. I don’t think I could handle it,” Suga laughed through the words, fully leaning into Daichi’s side as he shook slightly with laughter ( _he’s unfairly adorable,_ Daichi thought). 

He joined in with a little laughter of his own when the infatuation-induced freeze wore off and the first years quieted down. Eventually the laughter died down, and their teammates dwindled in number as they walked out through the gym doors. 

In the calm that followed, Suga let his head fall on Daichi’s shoulder. The weight was comforting even as his hair tickled Daichi’s chin. Hesitantly, because he thought he might just get away with it, Daichi lowered his head to rest it atop Suga’s. They sat like that for a few minutes, or perhaps more, until they were the only ones left.

“We should probably head home,” Daichi suggested. He didn’t want to move. 

“Mmmm,” Suga replied. He too sat still.

They sat in that silence, one that felt simple, and Daichi knew there wasn’t another person he could just sit and _exist_ with. There wasn’t another person he wanted by his side, not another person that made life brighter the way Suga did. It was only ever Suga he wanted to know more about. And there was still so much he didn’t know about him. 

Like, if he reached out and tangled their fingers together, if Daichi set their clasped hands in his lap and traced lines on the back of Suga’s hand, would he let him? 

If, in this darkened gymnasium still smelling grossly of sweat, Daichi tilted his head and met Suga’s lips with his own, would Suga pull away? 

He didn’t get an answer then, because Suga poked Daichi’s stomach and said, “as much as I enjoy this, I actually do want to get home and shower.”

“Oh, right,” Daichi lifted his head off of Suga’s, and his co-captain smiled at him. It was one of his small smiles - genuine, soft, and private. It was something Daichi saw on his face rarely; And in all honesty, he felt honored to be the only one privy to that smile. 

Daichi suppresses the urge (for the second time that night) to kiss him. He shoved the thought down and grabbed the whiteboard he had placed beside him on the bench. 

“Walk home together?” he asked, though- 

“that goes without saying.” Suga finished Daichi’s thought for him like he knew Daichi just as well as Daichi knew him. 

Well, he did. Didn’t he? They both came to know each other over the years, just as they did the fundamentals of volleyball. 

Yet, surely, the questions that crossed Daichi’s mind were unapparent to Suga. Surely, there was that line that differentiated between “know” and “don’t know”. That line, that uncrossable yet beckoning line, was the same one drawn between platonic and romantic in a flimsy stroke. Such lines were made out of chalk, easily washed by the rain, but just as easily redrawn.

It took a braver man than Sawamura Daichi to take that step over the line. His toes just barely brushed the edge, and without a push, without a hand to pull him over, he was stuck.

_If I take that step, will Suga be waiting for me on the other side? Or is the line the edge of a cliff?_

_I guess…_

_I’ve already fallen anyway._

* * *

  
  
  


Autumn leaves fell, brown and crisp, onto the sidewalk; the concrete was speckled with dirt, fine brown dots smearing as a wet shoe pressed over a crack on the walkway. A leaf crunched under a different shoe, bigger than the first.

Suga paused to shake his foot, lines of dirty water spraying carefully away from Daichi, whom he used for balance. Suga settled himself back on two feet, squeezing his friend’s shoulder and smiling up at him, “thanks, Daichi.”

“I was sure you were about to shake your shoe off on me.” Daichi said as Suga released his grip, and he ignored the way his brain supplied him with, _it’s okay if you want to hold on a little longer._

There was a fake offended gasp that came from Suga, and he put a hand to his chest, “me? I would never do such a thing.” 

Daichi hummed his response and allowed the setter to keep up his innocent farce. They both knew of the times Suga had done _exactly that_ to Daichi, or the times he had surprised Daichi with dirty, sweaty towels instead of clean ones just to see him angry. (Suga also knew that Daichi couldn’t really get all that mad at him. He would just smile, or pinch Daichi’s cheek and say, “you’re funny when you’re mad,” and Daichi would feel as though all was fine in the world, sweaty towel around his neck and all.)

Suga smacked Daichi’s stomach with the back of his hand and said, “none of that. I can only take so much slander from you.” 

“I didn’t say _anything_.” Daichi put his hands up in mock surrender, half-hearted as he smiled and met Suga’s eyes out of the corner of his. Suga smiled back, silver strands of hair fluttering in the cool fall wind. 

“Mmm, that's the point. I know up here,” Suga tapped a finger to his temple, “you’re thinking about the sweaty towel incident.”

This close, with their shoulders brushing and their homes still a few minutes away, Daichi could picture himself leaning down just a bit to press a kiss to Suga’s beauty mark. It would be so easy, so instinctive and potentially habitual if he did. He could picture Suga’s startled jump the first time, the way he’d swat Daichi, pseudo-annoyed, the time after that. 

He wished it could be a habit. He wished it could be a thing between them, Daichi leaning down to kiss the top of Suga’s cheekbone and Suga pretending to be annoyed by it. 

It wasn’t, though. 

Daichi looked away to the road in front of them. Their legs moved together, somehow at the same pace despite their difference in height. 

“Suga?” Daichi started, his eyes still forward. 

Suga hummed shortly beside him. Daichi could feel the vibration of it where their shoulders touched. 

“Are you going to play in college?” He asked this to the air in front of him, his breath turning white in the cold. It wasn’t what Daichi _wanted_ to ask. Not one of the million questions he had. 

_Do you love me?_

Suga brought his hand up to his face and held his chin between his thumb and forefinger. He hummed again. 

Daichi held back a sigh. 

Truly, when you fall for someone, it’s the littlest things that make the heart beat just a bit faster. The length of someone’s eyelashes as they touch the tops of cheeks suddenly seems like the most interesting thing in the world. When another face is in front of yours, you can’t help but realize it doesn’t feel quite the same to look at.

“I think… maybe. If I go to the right college.” Suga nodded with his response, a bit like he was trying to convince himself of the answer more than Daichi. Daichi didn’t push, though. He knew that the future was sort of like a puzzle with how confusing it was. 

Only in this case, Daichi had no idea what the end result was supposed to look like. There was simply no sure guide to a future. And, maybe, unfortunately, Suga’s puzzle of life didn’t include Daichi.

“You mean one with a good team?”

_When you picture your future, am I still by your side?_

Suga smiled, closed his eyes so that Daichi couldn’t see the emotion in them, and said, “you know me so well, Daichi.” 

This time, neither of them laughed. There were no terrible impersonations or head’s on shoulders. The silence wasn’t comfortable, and the thought of holding Suga’s hand felt scary rather than comforting. 

There was so much to lose that the idea of something to _gain_ didn’t cross Daichi’s mind. 

They parted ways not two minutes later, and the cold was harsher without Suga next to him. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Pellets of rain tapped against Daichi’s window like impatient fingers on a desk. The sound filled his room with a comfortable lull, and if Suga didn’t have his head in Daichi’s lap, he might have fallen asleep with the repetitive sound. 

As it were, Daichi sat rock still with his hands placed palm-down on his bed. He told himself he wasn’t freaking out. It was completely normal for his tired best friend to scroll down their laptop while his thighs stood in for a pillow. Suga seemed completely unfazed, which was a little unfair. He laid on his side, curled up in a ball with one of Daichi’s hoodies stretched over his knees and a finger moving text up the screen. 

“You’re gonna stretch out my hoodie,” Daichi mumbled. That was preferable to, _“hey, Suga? If you want, you can keep that hoodie and wear it to school tomorrow over your uniform.”_

Suga turned to stick his tongue out at him. “And you’re a growing boy. I’m helping you out.” 

Daichi kept his deadpan look, because _“you’re a growing boy”_? A terrible comeback. Suga could do better than that. Daichi told him as such. 

Suga mumbled something Daichi didn’t catch, but he was certain held a profanity or two. Suga pulled his legs out from under Daichi’s hoodie and pulled the sleeves up over his palms so only his fingers poked out. He stuck out his bottom lip at Daichi and pouted, “now my legs are cold.”

It was impossible not to laugh at the display at least a little, but Daichi hid it under a sigh and grabbed a blanket from the other side of the bed. He threw it at Suga’s face, knowing it wouldn’t hurt, it would just… mildly annoy him. Which Suga deserved after sticking out his tongue and pouting. It was unfair to Daichi’s heart, unfair to his urges to tilt Suga’s head back and bend over to kiss him until they got tired and fell asleep under that damn blanket Daichi threw at Suga. 

Suga pulled the blanket off his face and smiled at Daichi, “thanks, dear.” And without seeing the way Daichi’s whole body jolted, Suga turned back to his school work and pulled the blanket over his legs. 

While Suga did his work, Daichi scrolled through his phone. He answered a few messages, resolutely ignoring the volleyball group chat. He also ignored whatever it was Kuroo was saying about his and Suga’s late night study sessions. (It was probably something that would have Daichi’s face turning red and the thought of Suga’s head in his lap a lot less innocent.)

As a particularly boring email was checked, Daichi felt a tug at his shorts. He looked down to see two of Suga’s fingers playing absentmindedly with a loose string on a side-seam. Daichi’s heart clenched and soared at the same time; the touch was obviously so careless, which said Suga felt comfortable enough to reach out and touch Daichi. But Daichi’s hands didn’t know how to touch anything so casually, save a volleyball. 

Suga, likely sensing Daichi’s sudden stillness, tilted his head on the sheets of Daichi’s bed and looked up at him. “Kuroo, again?”

“What?” Daichi blinked as the light on his phone dimmed with the lack of touch. 

“Never mind,” Suga shrugged as best as he could while laying on his side, and turned his head back to face his laptop. “Sometimes you’ll go still and I’ll ask ‘what?’ and you’ll just respond, ‘Kuroo thinks he’s funny,’ while your face looks a little red.”

Daichi let his phone go completely dark and tried to get a read on Suga’s face. Suga was smart, Daichi knew that. Still, there was no feasible way he could know why Kuroo’s texts would have Daichi’s face warm and his fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt. 

Right? 

It _was_ always Kuroo who sent those messages, but the contents of them were for Daichi’s eyes only. 

Besides, they alternated between him fucking with Daichi: _Suga’s hands are good with balls, you say?_

And being weirdly genuine: _Don't doubt yourself so much. He trusts you as a captain and a best friend, so put a little trust in him back._

(The latter was why he could get away with the former. That, and all the training they did together with Bokuto, kept Daichi from pressing the block button.) 

“I ignored his messages,” Daichi offered, keeping his eyes trained on Suga’s profile.

Suga was silent for a second, clearly processing the information. Then, he asked, “he doesn’t mind, then?”

“No…” Daichi’s eyebrows drew together, and he felt suddenly as though they were having a different conversation than he thought they were. “Why would he mind?”

Suga’s finger slowed to a stop on his screen, text about theories and long-dead scientists falling away from his attention. “Are you two not-” Suga made a vague gesture that Daichi was unable to interpret, “- ya know?”

All confusion and tension flew off of Daichi like dirt wiped off a shoulder. “Me and _Kuroo_?” He laughed and settled back against the headboard, “No, no. He’s… not my type.”

“Oh, so tall, dark and handsome isn’t your type?” The familiar tease tinted Suga’s voice once again, and the air around them too turned to one of normalcy. 

Daichi watched Suga lift his head and turn over to face Daichi with his whole body. Suga resettled himself under the blanket with his cheek squished against a palm and asked, “are we finally at the point of our friendship where we get to talk about…” he hesitated, “boys? girls? people out of the gender binary?”

“We kinda skipped that part of the friendship,” Daichi said, neatly avoiding the tail end of the question. 

It was true that they hadn’t talked about it before, not once over the hours they spent together (alone or otherwise). Somehow, it was both the most and least important thing to skip over. 

Suga waved a hand, “I’ve never been one for doing things in conventional order.”

“You go first,” Daichi countered and lowered himself on the bed, propping his head up on a hand and facing Suga. 

“I suppose it’s only fair.” They were close enough that Daichi could just barely feel Suga’s breath against his cheek as he spoke. “We-ellll,” Suga drew out the word and turned over onto his back, allowing Daichi to look down at him.

There was a beat of silence where Daichi seriously considered making this whole thing a lot less tortuous by saying “fuck it” and leaning forward to kiss Suga on the bed right then and there. 

The beat passed, and Suga supplied Daichi with a, “tall, dark and handsome isn’t _bad_.”

A laugh escaped Daichi, even as he knew that was the most he was going to get out of Suga. He pressed on anyways. “Does ‘tall, dark and handsome solely include the masculine?”

Suga shrugged, not really giving an answer, but it was enough. He hadn’t been looking for Suga to know his sexuality. Hell, he didn’t even know for sure his own. It was enough that Suga shared the new information with him.

And, just like each fact before, Daichi soaked it up and stored it away. 

There was an American movie he saw Tanaka and Noya watching once. Daichi couldn’t remember the name of it, but a line stuck out to him then. _“So you’re telling me there’s a chance.”_

The guy from the movie certainly didn’t have a chance, but, like him, Daichi would hope anyways. 

“What about you?” Suga asked, poking Daichi lightly on the chest. His hand fell back down to rest on his own chest, palm down with Daichi’s hoodie still around him. 

Daichi pictured some other version of himself, a braver one, reaching out and slipping his fingers between Suga’s.

“I think we already established what my type _isn’t_ ,” Daichi said, smiling as Suga rolled his eyes, “but… I think as long as they’ve got a caring heart that expands to others, I’m good.” It was vague, about as vague as Suga’s answer, yet he didn’t know how to say, _“my type is silver hair, hazel eyes, witty and a bit chaotic, a lot lovely, and named Sugawara Koushi.”_

“Oh, ho, ho. So you’re one of those, ‘I don’t care about looks’ sort of guys? I should have known.” A side of Suga’s lips pulled up into a small smile, and he played with the sleeves of Daichi’s hoodie. 

“I mean, them being attractive wouldn’t _hurt-_ ”

They both broke out in laughter, and Suga pushed Daichi over with a hand to his shoulder. Suga shut his eyes as he laughed, and Daichi kept his own open to memorize the sight. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


By some miracle, or perhaps misfortune, nothing changed between them. Sure, Suga might point to a particularly disfigured character on the TV and ask Daichi, “they’re your type, right?” in a very serious tone. (His favorite time to do this was when they watched anime together, particularly things like _Tokyo Ghoul_ and _Attack on Titan_ .) Daichi would either tackle Suga until his demeanor broke and they laughed, limbs and bodies tangled on the floor, or he would nod his affirmation just as seriously as Suga had asked the question. It was _nice_ , but it still wasn’t what Daichi really wanted. 

He wanted, in those moments when Suga poked Daichi’s sides - knowing exactly the spots he was ticklish, because of course he knew Daichi’s weaknesses just as well as his strengths - to take Suga’s hands from where they assaulted him and hold them against the floor on either side of his head. He wanted to kiss Suga until their laughter faded and it was just them and that feeling of _content_ in their chests. 

But alas, the timing never felt quite right. Every moment was either too perfect to ruin, or it was surrounded by the tense, fragile reminder that their third year was coming to a close. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


He didn’t like to mope. Staying strong, staying positive and keeping himself and others up was his _thing_. But there Daichi stood, hands in his pockets, jacket and hair blowing in the wind. From the hill he stood on, Daichi could see Karasuno High School standing tall and proud. He knew, a few miles down the road, post-graduation parties were being thrown. 

Celebrating sounded like mockery.

“Daichi.”

It was Suga’s voice, because of _course_ it was. The soft tones of it found Daichi’s ear as he came up beside him. 

Daichi turned his head to see Suga’s face twisted and red under the eyes. In times like these, when Daichi knew Suga needed it but wouldn’t ask for it, he _could_ reach out and touch. He wrapped an arm around Suga’s shoulders and pulled him against his side. 

They felt worlds apart while they stood right next to each other. 

“You okay?” Daichi whispered, the words almost lost in the wind. 

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say. 

Suga pushed Daichi’s arm off slowly, sniffling once and laughing self-deprecatingly. “We’re supposed to be celebrating.” It was all he said, but the implications hung heavy: 

When the original glee wears off, when victory only lasts while you are around the people you won with, won _for_ , you are left with only sorrow. 

Daichi knew the third-years would part ways. Maybe on breaks they’d come back and play with their old teammates, but it wouldn’t be the same. They wouldn’t work together like they once did, they would be new people in an old home. And it would break them more than never coming back would.

He didn’t know what to say to that, or if there was anything he could say at all. 

Suga hugged himself and crinkled the nice shirt he wore for graduation. “We made it through high school, and I know I should be excited.” His eyes watered again, and instead of the sleeve Daichi was willing to offer, the back of his hand wiped the stray tear away. 

Daichi wouldn’t reach out to touch Suga. Not when he had pushed him away, not when it might make things worse. Instead, he listened as Suga continued. 

“I want to be excited. I want to go to college and experience that as a fresh, new person with a future to look forward to. I want to find myself like I’m supposed to. But-”

Tears fell, fast and fat. 

Down Suga’s cheeks and onto the cement. 

_Drip, splat._

_Drip, splat._

“Suga…” Daichi stopped there, and he thought he might understand where this was going. Suga was scared of the future, and he came to someone safe. Daichi could settle for being that. He could settle for that when he was about to become a stranger. 

“I would have waited a thousand lifetimes for you.” The tears stopped. Suga’s jaw set, tight and determined. 

That’s not what he thought Suga was going to say. He thought, maybe, _“promise we’ll still talk, alright?”_ or, _“our colleges won’t be far from each other. We could hang out when you’re not too swamped with work.”_

Daichi blinked. The world’s oxygen supply got sucked away by some supernatural vacuum, and Daichi’s field of vision narrowed like the rest of the earth got taken away with its oxygen. “I’m right here.” 

“Oh, _Daichi_ .” Suga smiled, small and sad. He lifted up on his toes and pressed a small kiss to Daichi’s cheek. It stayed with Daichi even when Suga fell back on his heels. The warmth, not just on his face, but throughout his entire being, stayed with Daichi even when he heard Suga say, “that’s the problem, isn’t it? You’ve always been so _good_ , the perfect balance for each of my missteps and flaws. You’d be there by my side even if I didn’t ask you to, because you’d just know it’s what I needed.” 

“But we’re going our separate ways, barely a thirty minute drive from each other when college starts. We’ve always been _parallel_ , not intersecting.” Suga paused to laugh. “I sound like Takeda with that metaphor.”

“Suga.” Daichi let the name come out of his mouth in a firm, ‘snap out of it’ tone. Suga’s eyes widened, and Daichi took the opportunity to get some control of Suga’s downward spiral. This, he knew how to do. When Suga got in his head, when worry clouded his thoughts and made logic foggy, Daichi would clear a path for him. 

Determined to finally, _finally_ , say the things that caged his heart, Daichi said, “You’re my best friend, and if I’m completely honest, I’ve wanted to be more than that for a while now.” He tightened his fists by his side, knowing Suga was hanging onto every word. “You said you would have waited a thousand lifetimes for me. What were you waiting for?” 

Suga took in a sharp breath, his chest shaking with unreleased sobs. “I was waiting for you to be ready.” 

“I’m ready _now_ ,” Daichi stepped up and faced every fear he had. He faced _Suga_. And it was the most terrified and brave he had ever felt. That cliff he envisioned months ago? He was jumping off the edge. 

“Are you? Because now seems-” 

“Hard? Like ‘making it to nationals with a crazy new team, fighting blindly with nothing but trust and willpower’ hard?” Daichi thought, _fuck it_ , and carefully framed Suga’s face with both of his hands, thumbs brushing his cheekbones to ensure Suga kept his eyes on Daichi’s. “I don’t mind a challenge, or distance, or if we hold off on anything solid until after college. If you’re scared that going to different schools while trying something new would put a rift between us, let’s come up with a game plan.” He smiled, the same one he gave Suga as he came onto the court after standing on the sidelines. A smile that meant pride and joy. A smile that said he knew they could make it through just like they always did. 

And then he did what he’d never been bold enough to do before. He closed that gap, crossed that line between friendship and _more_.

That is to say, Daichi finally, actually, kissed Suga. 

He made a promise to himself (as he found that their bodies, their lips and their lives fit together _perfectly_ ) that he would be a part of Suga’s puzzle of life, no matter what it took. He would fight for him, for them. 

They were a team, for as long as they both would fight to win. And Daichi was confident enough to say they were both fighters. 

Fingers on Daichi’s waist pulled their hips together, and Daichi pulled away to tilt his head and kiss Suga deeper, with everything he had to give. Even as the kiss tasted a bit like Suga’s tears. Even as Daichi didn’t know quite where to put his hands, or how everything led to _this_. None of that mattered when Suga was in his arms, when his mouth was as soft as him. 

If this was a movie, the cameras would have pulled away. They would have zoomed out and away as music played and the credits began to roll. No such thing happened for them. They heard only the sounds of breathing through their noses, only lips and tongues wet and curious as they crossed over that line between friendship and more again and again. 

And because Suga could (Daichi guessed because he could use a good laugh after all that crying), his hands found the back of Daichi’s pants and squeezed. 

Daichi laughed against Suga’s lips, pausing the kiss to press his forehead against Suga’s and shake his head. “You ruined the moment.”

“What are you talking about? I _made_ the moment. I _am_ the moment.”

He pressed a quick kiss to Suga’s lips. “Yes, of course.” Daichi knew Suga, and he knew sometimes, it was best to just agree with him.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


There were still questions about Suga that Daichi found his brain conjuring up years later. There were still things he learned, little facts he soaked up. But _today_ was the 128th day in a row his brain asked, _“okay, but what if he says, ‘no,’?”_

The ring box in his jacket pocket sat heavy, and Daichi brushed a finger against the lid while Suga ordered them something to go. 

25 now, Daichi and Suga shared a small apartment in Miyagi. They made it through college, not labeling anything, but not really seeing anyone else either. They went on little dates, sometimes out to dinner, sometimes to study at a library at the halfway-point between them, and sometimes to one or the others’ dorm room. 

When asked by classmates or friends why he never seemed to date, Daichi would reply, “I’m waiting for the right person.” 

Only, Daichi’s ‘right person’ wasn’t a hypothetical. 

And it wasn't as though he hadn’t tried with other people, but any touch, any silence or any talk, just didn’t feel the same. Every day, Daichi became more and more certain Suga was _it_ for him.

“How was work?” Daichi asked as he grabbed a couple of the to-go containers from Suga’s arms. 

Suga thanked him with a bright smile, one that still blinded Daichi and made his heart do weird, sappy things in his chest. “Work was good. Though, one of the kids asked me if there was a Mrs. Sugawara.”

Daichi nearly dropped the containers of food he held in his hand, but hid the movement by reaching for the door and holding it open for Suga. “H-how’d that go?” _Smooth, Daichi. Real smooth._

A scarily knowing glance came his way from Suga, and he patted Daichi’s arm. “I told them that he was still too chivalrous for his own good.” 

As they made it onto the street, people and noises crowded their surroundings. Shouts and laughter filled their ears. Bike bells and televisions in windows filled the in between. “I think we should discuss who, hypothetically, of course, would take… which last name.” 

“Daichi,” Suga stopped where he stood. Passersby walked their way around them, used to the stops and goes of life. He leaned in to say quietly into Daichi’s ear, “it’s obvious, isn’t it? You’re the captain, remember?” He pulled on Daichi’s tie, from the knot to the end of it, and raised an eyebrow. 

Despite the heat he willed not to show on his face, Daichi mumbled, “you really need to let that go.” 

“Oh, never.” Suga smiled innocently and let go of Daichi’s tie, flicking it up so it nearly hit Daichi in the face. “I’m never letting go of that thing you told Kuroo about my hands and balls either.” Suga’s smile fell to a frown, and he shivered. “I had to hear it from _Tsukki_ of all people.”

Daichi smoothed down his tie and settled his hands in his pockets. His left hand felt the ring box, a reminder of how far they’d come from that third-year text exchange. “I’m never sharing anything about my sex life with you again.” 

“Daichi, darling, I _am_ your sex life.” Suga turned on his heel and began walking once again. 

An eyebrow twitched, his mood teetering between annoyed and a little turned on. (A confident Suga would _always_ do him in.) “Not if you keep bringing up the captain thing! I asked you to say it once. _Once_. I was 19!”

“And it was a good birthday present, too.”

Daichi sighed, “that’s not the point.”

They walked home together, chatting about their day as the sun fell below the horizon. When they got home they sat on their couch (a housewarming gift from Asahi), and ate their takeout. Suga’s spicy noodles had Daichi holding up his chopsticks in front of his lips every time Suga leaned in for a kiss. 

“I can’t believe you’re refusing to kiss me,” Suga pretended to pout, knocking Daichi’s chopsticks with his own. 

Daichi knocked Suga’s chopsticks back, childishly beginning a second duel. “I can't believe you brought up the captain thing. Again.”

“You’re only so pressed about it because you secretly want to do it again.” Suga said flippantly, like he simply knew that about Daichi. 

(He did.) 

“And you only keep bringing it up because there’s something _you_ want to do that you haven’t told me about.” Daichi knew Suga too, after all. 

Completely and obviously deflecting Daichi’s claim, Suga stabbed his chopsticks into a container and crossed his arms over his chest. “When are you going to propose?” 

“W-what?!” Daichi knew his eyes must have gone comically wide, but… _shit_.

Suga smiled, a little devilishly, and stole a kiss that Daichi returned while still half in a shock-induced daze. “Hiding small objects from an elementary school teacher sounds like a joke. You should be better at this, love. You’re a cop.”

Daichi put on an exaggerated frown, “Well, now I’m not proposing anymore. It’s off. It’s over. Pack your bags,” while he slipped off the couch and kneeled in front of Suga between his legs. Daichi reached into his pocket…

and pulled out a fresh pair of wrapped chopsticks. 

He opened the paper and dug into the less spicy food in Suga’s lap, while Suga looked at him with his mouth slightly open and his eyes half affronted, half impressed. 

“Daichi?”

“Yes, Koushi?”

“I don’t think I’ve wanted to marry you any more than I have right now.”

“That’s nice, honey.”

Suga hit the top of Daichi’s head with his chopsticks and used the opportune moment while Daichi rubbed his head to place the containers of food on the table and slip down onto Daichi’s lap.

He held Daichi’s face in his hands, and Daichi saw something serious and genuine in them despite the back and forth from mere seconds before. “I’m so glad it’s you.” He kissed the tip of Daichi’s nose, and followed up with, “I love you, you know that right?”

Daichi brought his hands up to hold Suga’s wrists where his hands framed his face. “I love you, too.”

Without breaking the moment between them, Suga pulled his hands from Daichi’s grip and rested his head in the crook of his neck. “I said once I would have waited a thousand lifetimes for you. And it was true. I would have died again and again to find a life where we ended up together. But.” Suga pulled back and looked into Daichi’s eyes in a way that made him feel utterly entranced, “I’m really glad it was this life.”

“Koushi, I…” Daichi trailed off, unsure of what there was to say to something like that. (Other than, “ _please_ marry me, Sugawara Koushi.”)

“You don’t have to say anything. I don’t know everything that goes on in that head of yours, but I do know that you love me, and that’s enough. It will always be enough. It got us here, and it’ll get us through whatever might come. We’re a team, you and me.” The words tickled his neck as Suga spoke them softly. The TV they left on played in the background, and the room smelled like takeout they’d bought together upwards of 30 times now. It wasn’t a romantic setting, but it was somehow a perfect one.

And Daichi, with his arms hooked around Suga’s waist at the wrist, felt the familiar threat of tears. To stop any tears from falling, he said, in an impression of Suga that got better over the years (but was still sort of atrocious), “you know me so well.”

  
  
  
  


_Fin_

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> hi :p thanks for reading <3 !!


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